


Over and Over Again

by DarthSuki



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dirty Talk, F/M, M/M, Mild Blood, Omega Verse, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 03:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17358155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: It has been a year since StrexCorp ruled with their capitalistic, abusive reign. It's been many years since they had taken over Desert Bluffs, having all but sterilized all of the residents who were omegas or alphas to improve employee productiveness. Kevin was one of those who experienced the 're-configuring' as Strex called it, but you were spared only by the work of fate. As an omega, your body's levels of stress suppressed the instinct to otherwise have heats, leaving you undetected and spared.Now, trying to put together a new life with Kevin in the New Desert Bluffs, you are suddenly hit by the full force of all of the heats that your body was forced to suppress. Don't worry though: Kevin is here to help you through it.





	Over and Over Again

**Author's Note:**

> Though you don't need to read it to understand this oneshot, [here is where you can read more information about omegaverse and how I write it.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8240798)

When it hits you, it’s as if all the air has been sucked right from your lungs. You can barely breathe, barely even think when it seems as if your brain starts to short-circuit on a lead-heavy feeling sitting at the bottom of your belly. It feels like fire. Like a burning, _searing_ flame that starts to spill across your body, moving through your veins until that unignorable sensation is all you can think about.

It hit you when you were in the kitchen. There was a dish in your hand a few moments ago, but now there isn’t one, instead shattered on the floor in hundreds of tiny bits of ceramic. The sound filled the air, but you couldn’t hear it beyond the rushing _thump thump thump_ of the blood in your ears, muting out the world around you.

You can’t even spare the moment to feel worried or shocked by the shards scattered around your feet.

 _What is this_?

The question bounces around your head, collecting fragments of fear as it moves, curling up and into itself until you’re afraid that you’re about to have a full-blown panic attack on top of whatever the hell else is going on with your body.

_What the hell is this?_

For a while you simply don’t have an answer to it, instead hobbling across the kitchen to find a chair to sit down _(why do you feel so out of breath?)_ and take a moment to try and collect what information you know in the moment _(why does the room feel so hot?)._ You glance around the kitchen, eyes hoping to find even the slightest hint or reason or literally _anything_ that would have caused this reaction. Was it a poison? Is there a leak of poisonous gas?

As much as you would like to consider the situation at-hand, you don’t exactly have the level head and pain-sober of thoughts to do very much. You manage to move out of the kitchen with a groan, every little step sending sparks of _something_ down your spine.

It’s not pain, or at least it doesn’t feel _quite_ like pain should. It’s powerful and suffocating and it’s all you can think about as you limp into the living room, but the feeling isn’t pain at all. It’s something different, something desperate, something…

Oh.

Oh, oh no.

…

The realization hits you like bricks. No, not like bricks--more like a wave, warm and wet and _enormous_ in its power. Where you had been fearful that you were dying, now at least you know that you’re not.

It’s probably going to be worse, in fact.

Before you let your body start to panic, before you let the hormones and the pheromones and every other damn thing start racing around your shaking body, you at least have the sense to shut yourself in the bedroom and yank out your phone.

It only takes three rings before it picks up; worrying if he is live and on-air is the absolute last of your worries right now.

“Hello?” Kevin’s voice comes through the phone. The sound of it makes your knees wobble, feeling more like jelly than like bones and joints. “I’m sorry dearest, I can’t talk right now! I’m just about to go live for the show and-”

“My heat has started.”

There is a pause. A silence. It’s so quiet over the line that you almost fear that the call was dropped (which, despite the great reception in the desert otherworld, isn’t entirely unheard of as a technical issue).

Before you can push a noise from between your lips to repeat the question, Kevin’s thin, tense question comes first. A single word, though it holds a magnitude of meaning.

“Heat?”

It’s not a question of ignorance, no, he’s not asking what the word means. Kevin knows what the word means.

“Yes,” you say, your voice a hiss as your body begins to shake, to tremble at the beautiful tamber and power just behind Kevin’s voice. “My heat. I. I don’t--Kevin I don’t know what I should do it’s been years and-”

“Where are you?”

The question is firm and unrelenting. It catches your words like a vice grip, keeps you silent as his control begins to entangle around every syllable.

Your eyes peer around the room, as if you had honestly forgotten where you are. The heat is excruciating, not in pain but in all the ways that pain distracts and screams for attention to itself. It’s ravenous and wild and you can barely get a handle on coherence even in your own thoughts.

“The bedroom,” you whisper, shaking with every step towards the bed, barely making it as you fall onto the soft covers and instinctively begin to curl up into a ball. “I’m--....I’m on the bed.”

“Good,” Kevin’s voice falls into your ear, soft and smooth as a shadow. “Are you harmed, dearest?”

“ **No** -” The word comes out so harsh, like you’re trying to force burning water through a pinhole. “No I--I just--a glass, I dropped a glass in the kitchen and it b-buh-...broke.”

There’s another silence over the line, but this time it’s almost legitimately painful. Not because you’re embarrassed or ashamed or anything like that, but literally painful--Kevin’s voice oh, oh you want his voice back, to hear him, hear him call you _dearest_ and to coo to you and command you and--

“Stay where you are,” Kevin finally says, background noise suggesting he was walking, talking to someone else off the phone. You can hear the small noises of confusion from a woman--Vanessa, probably--before the man finally puts the phone back up to his ear. “I’ll be home soon. I will help you through this, dearest, you’ll be alright.”

He doesn’t give you any time to reply, even to beg him to stay on the phone with you--the call is either dropped or closed; you hardly have the sense to figure out which one, merely tossing the stupid thing so it falls over the edge of the bed.

Fuck.

You know you shouldn’t feel surprised, at least not in hindsight. StrexCorp had been apart of your life for so many years that you assumed that at some point your body just stopped working, doing the job for them of shutting down your cycle, one that fate or a curse had them overlook. Where others in Desert Bluffs were quickly mutilated of their typing to make heats and ruts an obsolete issue, you were spared only by the fact that your body had long-been too stressed to attempt to put you through a heat.

You were, to them, typeless. A gamma, a perfect worker in the eyes of the company, not needing to worry about cycles of this or that--a worker who could focus only on their job and productivity, bring in money for the monsters who worked above those whose lives were in shackles and their autonomy ripped, literally, from their bodies.

 _Re-configuring_ _._ That’s what Strex had called the process. _Making a better you! The best you, the one person you were always meant to be!_

The words alone make your stomach lurch.

But even those memories, dark and horrible and filled with traumas only barely filtered through, aren’t at all enough to stifle the fact that you are going through heat. Right now. Right here. It has been over a year since Strex was forced out of Night Vale and dismantled from the very core by members of that town, and only now your body relishes once more in its freedom.

A heat. It’s only then that things begin to make sense and the feelings in your core start to fall into perspective. Need. It’s all need coiling through your belly, a deep and desperate sort of _want_ that makes you feel mindless and wild and wanting--just--

You want to be fucked. You want to be bent over the bed and fucked over and _over_ and **_over_ ** again. You want a naked body against yours, the heat of someone’s skin, the girth of their knot sinking into you and husky, dark words in your ear.

You want _Kevin_.

He wasn’t as lucky as you were. Though he’s more than able to claim you and have you in the most intimate and carnal of ways, he doesn’t have the markings of anything anymore--no scent, no knot, no rut, no anything. You assume he was once an alpha, if only by his overall demeanor around you, but there is nothing but scars on his body to showcase where Strex scientists had cut him open--he does not talk about it.

You can’t begin to wonder how this will affect your relationship with him, if your scent will put him in pain, his body unable to do what it wants to, no, _needs_ to do in the presence of such a needy, desperate mate.

Fuck, you don’t want to think about that now. You absolutely cannot think about that now.

So you simply don’t. Clothes come off your body instead, your focus shifted from worry and thoughts to following the simple yet powerful directive practically _screaming_ through your body. They’re tossed away from you, direction unplanned and careless, so you can instead splay your naked body over the bed.

Only now do you feel it, the wetness leaking down your thighs.

Where the first day of an omega’s heat could consist of faint longing and stronger scent, you were already crazed with need and spilling the clear, natural lubricant down your legs. Your body is in overdrive, as if trying to compensate for the dozens of cycles it has missed.

Every minute without Kevin--without your _mate--_ feels like knives. There’s only so much you can do on your own, lonely and needy for more than fingers eagerly sinking into your wet heat. It does a little to tease at the edges of the fire in your stomach, though all it does is make you want _more_. You want something bigger inside you, something thicker--you want a body pressing down, overpowering you, claiming you with a primal sinking of teeth into your shoulder.

You can’t begin to guess how long it takes Kevin to get home. Minutes, hours? Hell, it could have been days and it wouldn’t make much of a difference to you, it all feels the same in the end. You have three fingers inside you, pressing as deep as possible to soothe the ache deep in your body, fucking you over and over, wider and wider until even the girth of three fingers is not enough to fight the heat and pressure and _want_.

But that’s when you hear it, like an alarm through your brain: the front door opening.

\---

Kevin isn’t quite sure what he’s looking for when he steps into the small apartment. Besides the obvious, of course, he doesn’t know what to expect of everything else. He hardly knows what he himself will do either, which is what should be the more terrifying aspect of the whole situation.

Needles. Knifes. Blood. Pain

The ghostly sensations etch over his skin, reminder branded into his mind like a tattoo, never to truly forget. He’s been hollowed out in body and mind, and yet still the memories cling to him and cause a frenzy of manic thoughts that he can all but ignore.

No. He won’t think about that. He won’t _think_ about _that._

Instead he lets his thoughts wrap around you instead. Though worry has some predominance over his thoughts, he has no shame in admitting that there is pure arousal lying just beneath it. It ebbs and flows through his body like the ocean, equal in heat and ferocity as he can only toy at the thoughts of the noises he will pull from your beautiful lips.

It only takes him ten minutes to get home. Ten minutes from the front door to the station to the front door to the apartment.

Kevin opens the door and nearly staggers back from the scent that hits his nose.

Omega.

The scent screams the word in his mind, message with all the subtlety of neon lettering on a moonless night. It’s a word that has so deep of a meaning that it settles in the man’s very bones, his soul, his essence. His heart leaps and his body bristles with the need that grows inside him with every little breath he takes of your scent.

“I’m home, dearest!”

Kevin’s voice drips with joy, the tone practically part of his psyche by this point, cemented by years of trauma and bloodlust.

He steps through the front hall, the kitchen, the living room, steps measured and slow as he regards everything around him carefully. He walks like a predator, movement careful and measured as his thoughts flicker between the mindset of worry and raw desire.

“Are we in the bedroom?” he calls out. He steps into the back hallway, feeling his lips curl into a smile so wide it’s almost manic. “Of course we are, you listened to me! Such a good pet, dearest one, a good, obedient omega-”

His steps grow fervent, quicker as they near the bedroom. The man makes no attempt at subtly or seduction as he throws the door open, dark eyes wide with glee and body with unfiltered lust.

There you are, naked and needy and on the bed. Your legs are open, one hand between them while the other is exploring your body, rubbing and pinching and doing everything it can to sate your endless need.

“ _Ohhhh my_ ,” Kevin says, taking in a deep breath of air mixed alluringly with your scent. It’s like a drug to him, eagerness spilling out of his empty eyes and sharp, flashing smile. “My oh my, dearest!” He takes a step closer, then another, hovering at the foot of the bed, gazing down at your naked, needing form. “Just _look_ at you. So pretty, and needy, and oh so... _delicious_.”

His words are all you can bother to focus on, the only energy you can extend farther than keeping your own thoughts from driving you insane. The heat had been bad before, waiting for Kevin but--but now? His presence has only worsened it, tossed pure kerosene into the fire, making your body writhe in need that pleasure begins to creep into legitimate pain.

“ _Kevin_.”

His name is a plea. A beg. It’s soft and weak and relenting beneath the man’s suffocating aura that moves around the room like living shadows. For a moment even he looks like a shadow, towering and foreboding in a moment of pure darkness, staring down as if he was a predator ready to devour you.

“Say my name again.”

He speaks so softly, his words almost shaking with control. It quells the heat in your belly for a moment, responding to his very soul, the domination coursing through his voice in a cold, exhilarating breath.

Your body stiffens, fingers still inside you and legs still shaking.

“K-Kevin,” his name is a whimper on your lips. “Kevin. Kevin! _Kevin!_ ”

Every rushed moan, every breath of his name makes the man’s eyes grow wider, his smile fuller, his body quivering with delight. For a moment he stands there, hovering over you and fully-clothed, but the next moment you blink and--

Suddenly he is on you. Like an animal Kevin moves over your body, suddenly bare and naked in a flash of time and space that you don’t understand but don’t care to question--there’s no time for that.

“I’ve been wondering when your heat would start up again!” The delight in Kevin’s voice is almost terrifying. “You sound so beautiful when we _play_ together, darling! All those noises you make, all those sweet, lovely, screaming noises it--it makes me so happy!”

His hand grabs your wrist, the one between your legs, and yanks it up and away from your center of want. You can’t help but offer a thin, vague protest, but it only makes the other’s delight turn manic.

“You’re not allowed to touch yourself now,” Kevin says, easily restraining both of your wrists with one hand, pressing them up above your head, while his other hand moves between your legs. “I’m here now my little omega, and I will be the only one touching you _here_.”

Fingertips press against your heat and sink inside you oh-so-easily. He doesn’t show caution, doesn’t treat you like glass and oh, fuck, that’s what you want. A keen of pleasure falls from your mouth and your hips tilt to get his digits deeper inside you, have the pads of his fingers massage against your inner walls.

“You’re already so wet!” Kevin exclaims it like he’s surprised, but his expression reads as something much different, fucking you quick and eager with his fingers. “Oh, this makes me so very _happy!_ ”

All you can offer in response is a whine, needy and insistent. You want more, so much more of him.

“Aren’t you happy, dearest? To finally have me here with you, to give you what your body craves?”

You’re not quite sure how to answer that--there’s an answer that he’s looking for, but it just doesn’t pop into your thoughts with any sort of ease, as they’re already preoccupied with your desire to be mated with instead.

Kevin’s expression changed for a moment, lips pursing in something of a pout.

“You’re not looking very happy,” Kevin’s face is near yours, noses inches apart from one another, the pace of his hand slowing between your legs. “But that’s alright! I’ll give you something to be happy for, dearest. I’ll give you _plenty_ to be happy about.”

The tone was dark and husky and filled with such an eager lust that you so rarely heard from him. Before you could so much as think, parse his words after they’ve left his mouth, Kevin is already pulling his fingers out of your aching entrance.

You feel so empty, even at the loss of a couple fingers. A whine escapes you, soft and thin of a sound, but Kevin hushes it quickly with a sloppy, needy kiss.

“Worry not dearest,” he whispers against your lips. “I have you. I _have_ you.”

Your thoughts sit in limbo for a breath, then two, feeling the way the man settles himself between your legs and presses the bare, warm skin of his stomach against yours. Chest to chest, body to body, his scars dappled against his flesh and his hands feverishly touching all over you though he has mapped you out so many times before.

And then you feel him press inside. His cock sheaths itself within your body in one hard, delightfully quick motion.

“Oh!” Kevin cries out in sweet, almost heavenly delight. “Oh yes, yes dearest, darling mine--this makes me feel so _very_ **_happy_ **.”

His thrusts are instant, rocking against your body and sending your sense of pleasure through the roof. Kevin is lost into his desperate hunger, restraint hanging in ragged strings as his powerful motions shake the bed against the wall in an almost obscene rhythm of hard tapping.

He clutches your hips, his mouth on yours and his euphoria loud and saturated with joy.

“So tight, so perfect, so lovely and you’re all _mine!_ ” The man says this against the bare skin of your neck, teeth gently scraping over soft skin before finally biting down. It will leave a mark, a bloom of color to show all who see it that you are claimed. Marked. Kevin’s and Kevin’s alone.

He bites you again, then again, then again. By the time he lifts his face up to look at you there is a faint smear of blood on his lips, his tongue licking them clean and lifeless eyes staring down at you with an oppressive, feverish delight.

You don’t have the time to moan--Kevin steals it away with a kiss, lustful and perfect and smothering at the same time. He presses against you in the way you want the most, commands your body to yield and burst wide with the pleasure that had been scratching at all of your thoughts.

Oh, how you feel protected, loved, owned by an alpha who loves you, and you love him flaws, trauma and all. Your arms wind around his back and fingernails press hard into the man’s skin as his pace gets only faster. The passion between you is primal, Kevin fucking you like he is in rut. You can’t stop yourself from giving into that unrestrained pleasure, digging your nails into his flesh and only vaguely realizing that you’re drawing blood.

It doesn’t matter though, as Kevin himself practically howls in euphoria.

“Yes!” He all but screams. “Yes! Like that! More! _Harder!_ ”

The moments that come after that are nothing but a blur. You feel a cascade of tension work up through your stomach, coiling tighter and tighter until there is absolutely nothing left to give of it. When you feel as though you are about to break the moment finally snaps--

And then it’s only white-hot euphoria that fills every inch of your body. Pressure and heat, swimming perfectly through you, crashing through your very being as Kevin fucks you through the orgasm. He crashes his lips to yours before you can let out a noise, swallowing down every one of them like he owns them as much as he does you.

At the end of it all Kevin doesn’t knot inside you--he simply can’t. You feel him cum inside you, spill within your body and even feel it drip down your inner thighs when there’s just so much of it, but there’s no pressure to hold him inside, no physical way for him to scent you, mark you, properly bond with you as alpha and omega.

Still, Kevin tries.

He shifts, letting the two of you lay on your sides, his chest pressing snuggly against your back, one of his hands pulling your top leg back over his so he can keep his cock pressed inside you. Your neck aches, already a canvas of new marks over old ones, marks of love and joy given in moments of passion and love.

The two of you breath together in sweet, heated silence for several moments.

“...I’m sorry that I can’t...” Kevin finally whispers, his voice sounding so honest, if only for that breath. “I...wish that I could give you…. _that_.”

A knot. A scenting. A bonding. A proper, working, full-bodied alpha.

You reach a hand back to him after a few moments, seeking out his cheek to stroke your thumb over.

“It’s okay Kevin,” the words are soft and serene in the haze of the momentary afterglow. “I love you, every inch of you. I’d want to share this with nobody else in the world--no alpha could be better to me than you are.”

There is a tick of silence, a moment where Kevin seems to take those words in, let them simmer and filter through his manipulated thoughts--and they still come through alright, leaving the man’s chest full of warmth and perfection and--

And joy. It’s a pure, unfiltered joy that sits there within him. He can hardly stand it--no, no he _can’t_ stand it, not at all.

So he simply doesn’t.

Kevin wraps an arm around your waist and presses his lips against the nape of your neck, his hips starting to shift, cock sliding inside your sensitive body again before the afterglow of the last round has yet to settle.

You don’t mind it at all, but it certainly takes you by surprise, your voice a mix between a gasp and a moan as his cock drags against all the right nerves inside you.

“K-Kevin?”

You can’t see his face, can’t see his eyes or his lips or that inhumanly-wide smile and yet you can just _feel_ all of it against the back of your neck.

“Oh...oh dearest I'm...I’m just...so happy!” He says, joyous and loud as his thrusts grow harder, nearing the ferocity that they had just before in the moments before climax. “Just so _happy!_ And it makes me want to have you!

To have you and _fuck_ you over,

and _over_ ,

and **_over_ ** again!”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a request made on my WTNV writing blog. If you would like to submit a request or check out my other related work, [go check it out here!](https://wtnvwritings.tumblr.com/)


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